


People. Places. Things.

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:40:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Shoot prompt: established relationship. Root is purposely turning Shaw on in a public place (train, subway, store, etc.) and Shaw can't wait until they get home so Root fingers her in public and Shaw has to be quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People. Places. Things.

“You ready to go?” Shaw asks, placing her surveillance camera down. From across the street, Michael Parker yanks open the large wooden doors of the Mid-Manhattan Public Library, escaping into its depths. From her side, Root nods, and Shaw takes the key from the ignition. They step out of the car, heels clicking as they make their way purposefully through the parking lot and to the front door. Pulling it open, Shaw steps aside, waiting for Root to slip by before following behind. At once, they are hit with the smell of old books, their earthy tang mixed with the underlying mustiness of vanilla and almonds. Shaw draws in a long breath, remembering the times when their team worked in a similar environment.  _Well, save for Root_. Looking her way, Shaw can see an amused glint in Root’s eyes as they reflect a cage, and she knows Root’s mind is in the same place.

* * *

 

However, as the door closes heavily behind them, they become accustomed to the scents, and the memories settle back down like disturbed particles of dust.

“Where’d he go?” Root asks quietly as they walk past aisles of adult novels. Shaw checks them with short glances. _Fiction to the left, nonfiction to the right._

Shaw hears footsteps from somewhere above and looks up. She sees a large, bronze clock decorated in intricate designs, roman numerals glinting in the florescent light, as it hangs on a thick ledge above the library’s central arch. Eyes traveling further up still, the ledge gives way to a thin, wooden railing with papers stacked mile high. At the far right is a small desk and chair, and a man in a tweed jacket takes a seat there. Shaw points up before continuing her walk, passing the librarian’s large, oak desk and plopping down before a row of computers.

Root follows, sitting down in the chair beside Shaw, and quickly logs on as a guest user.

“I wonder if they have security feed up there…” Root muses to herself before letting her fingers fly across the keyboard. Shaw finally gets to the desktop. She pulls up an internet page, then begins a hunt-and-peck mission for the right letters.

Her eyes zigzag across the keys before she slams a finger down on the ‘E.’ Again, she goes through this, index finger trailing across them lightly. ‘Y.’ Her eyes travel back down to their previous spot, and- with swifter movements- she smacks the 'E’ once more.

“You doing okay there, Sweetie?” Root asks, voice concealing laughter. Shaw’s lip twitches, itching to sneer, but she forces it down.

“Fine.” Without looking over to Root, Shaw hits the space button, eyes prying for the next key. She can feel Root’s eyes sizzling her skin, and slams the 'W’ with pressurized force.

“You need any help?”

“No.” The time drags on terribly slow, Shaw getting through I-T-N before Root rests her chin on Shaw’s left shoulder.

“E’s over there,” Root instructs, pointing to the opposite side of the keyboard, and she can feel Shaw’s muscles tense.

'E.’

“I could teach you to type, if you want me to,” Root offers, voice a purr in Shaw’s ear. Shaw feels a tingle run down her spine and clenches her jaw.

“I don’t,” she replies stiffly, hitting the ’S’ key twice. Space.

“Why not?” Root asks, and Shaw catches a pout out of the corner of her eye. Shaw rolls them, irritable.

“Why do  _I_  need to type when I have  _you_ around?” She retorts. She hears Root’s soft laughter, and her nerves begin to scramble.

“Because it’s  _important_ ,” Root responds, a smile in her voice. Then, a sly look takes over her features. “It’s  _also_ a turn on.” Shaw closes her eyes in a slow, disbelieving blink.

“ _Hm_ ,” she says, face drawn up in mock contemplation. “I’ll have to remember that… for a time when I actually  _care_.” Her voice turns sour at the end, and she continues along. 'N.’ Search. 'E.’

“No need to be  _rude_ ,” Root replies playfully. “Why are you so grumpy today?”

“I’m alway-”

“You  _have_ to be  _quiet_!” The screeching, nasally voice cuts through their conversation like a machete through butter, and both women instantly fall silent. Shaw leans to the right, hair falling down over her shoulder as she searches for the voice. To her dismay, she sees a woman in a thick red sweater with auburn hair, kept in a tight perm, staring heatedly at her behind thick, wire rimmed glasses. On the breast pocket of her jacket is a sticker that reads, ’Hi, my name is: Librarian Linda.’ Shaw can feel her eyes coming to slits as Linda continues her disdainful glare, cherry red lips puckered in distaste. Linda brings a taloned finger to her lips, body radiating superiority. With something that could pass as a growl, Shaw sits back into her seat, angered blood boiling in her veins.

“The 'W’ is right next to the-”

“Don’t you have a security feed to be hacking?” Shaw interrupts. Her eyes scan the keyboard once more, and she wants anything but for Root to hover. However, Root has only that in her mind.

“It’ll only take me a second,” she responds, bringing her face back beside Shaw’s. Shaw finishes typing as quickly as she can before hitting enter. Half a second later, the screen fills with news reports, and Shaw clicks the first link available.

“What are we looking at the news for?” Root asks, and Shaw channels every ounce of self control she has into her next response.

“ _I_  am looking at it to kill time.  _You_  are looking at it to frustrate me.”

“Oh,  _Honey_ ,” Root says with a suggestive air, “if I wanted to frustrate you, I’d find a  _much_ more satisfying way to do it.” Shaw can feel the heat rising to her cheeks, and a sneer finally breaks across her face.

She scrolls down the page, forcing herself to focus on the words instead of Root, until she finally feels the presence leave her side. There is the sound of rapid typing at her flank, and she fights off the urge to rip the keyboard from its cord.

“Find anything yet?” Shaw asks, curiosity taking the edge from her voice. There are a few more seconds of keys tapping, then the sound of a chair back groaning.

“Yup,” Root replies, and Shaw casts her gaze Root’s way. She can’t help the jump of her heart at seeing Root’s eyes holding her intensely. “Sorry to be the bear of bad news,” she continues, scrunching her nose in a way that sends an aroused shutter down Shaw’s spine. “But Mikey’s kinda boring.”

Shaw peels her eyes from Root, bringing them to a screen filled with six boxes. One shows the librarian, who talks behind the desk to a woman at checkout. Another reveals the front door, where a woman of about fifty steps in with a stack of novels in her arms. The third reveals a mostly empty children’s section, save for a mother, six year old boy, and twelve year old girl absorbed in headphones and a magazine. The next features the aisles of books at the entrance, the edge of a small dividing wall visible in the bottom corner. Right below, Shaw can see Michael Parker sitting upstairs at the desk, meticulously rifling through page after yellow page. Occasionally, he highlights a line, then continues the tedious job.

After a few boring minutes, Shaw’s eyes travel to the last box. A net of surprise is cast over her as she sees the three rows of computers, almost all of them occupied.  _I didn’t realize how many people were…_ Her thoughts halt in their tracks as her eyes fall on the bottom left corner of the screen. She can see herself, leaning over at the table, face studying the computer. At her side, she watches as Root sits, reclined back slightly in the chair to allow Shaw room.  _Nothing too out of the ordinary, right?_

But that’s not what her eyes are fixated on. She ducks her head slightly towards the screen, unsure if she’s seeing it correct.  _It can’t be._  The Root on screen is toying aimlessly with Shaw’s hair, oblivious to the feeds entirely as her eyes bore affectionately Shaw’s way. Shaw snaps her hand back instantly, catching Root’s wrist in her steel grasp. Through the screen, she can see, only a hair behind, her fingers coiling tightly, and Root’s chin jerks up in response before her entire body relaxes. Shaw doesn’t move, merely watches as Root slowly draws in on the camera, coming up until Shaw can nearly feel Root’s mouth on her ear.

“It’s about time,” she whispers. Shaw forces calmness over her countenance, but her insides are too far gone to be tamed. Her nerves burst like a chain line of mines, blasting off across every square inch of her body. Her head begins to hum, swimming in a constant trill of thoughts she can’t quite suppress. It’s like a chemical explosion as colors bead together before her eyes and her heart dances to a spasmodic drum. She can feel the hitch in her breath and senses a smile as it spreads across Root’s lips.

A few, soft thuds against her back let her know that her hair has been released; Root’s hand snakes free of Shaw’s loosening grasp. It comes to Shaw’s shoulder, where her fingertips lazily trace out small circles over her t-shirt’s fabric.

Shaw’s eyes trail over to her left, where they just barely see Root’s profile. Her long, dark hair eclipses the light, and Shaw can make out the smooth curve of her nose’s bridge. Root’s eyes are cast down, watching her fingers work, leaving long eyelashes to drape down over their coffee color. Shaw lets out a slow, silent breath.

“Can I  _help_ you?” Shaw spits, voice somewhere between a husky bark and a breathless snarl. Root’s eyelids flicker up, revealing wickedly stunning eyes directed right at Shaw. They have a smile glinting in them, the depths of such a secretive grin drowning Shaw in them entirely. Shaw feels a scratch against the soft of her skin as Root’s fingers stop circling, nails dragging along into a loose fist on the edge of Shaw’s shoulder.

“I’m  _sure_ you could,” Root replies in a provocative purr, and Shaw instantly snaps her gaze away. She can feel her ears heating up as she licks her bottom lip in fluster, then bites her tongue to keep from screaming.

“Can we just…  _focus_ ,” Shaw responds stiffly, not daring to chance a glance back at Root.

“I’m plenty focused,” Root says with the same, silky tone, fingers playing with the end of Shaw’s sleeve, and Shaw feels a lump beginning to form in her throat.

“Good,” Shaw replies tightly, motions mechanic as she sits straight in her chair, words on the news page swimming in her vision. “Then let’s get to work.”

Shaw can feel Root’s smile hit her cheek like a slap to the face. And all the same, the blood rushes there, turning them a pink color.

“Back to  _work_ , Root.”

“Were we working in the first place?” Root asks, letting her hand travel down Shaw’s arm, stopping only as she encases Shaw’s hand in hers.

“I’d like to think so,” Shaw grumbles back, starting to scroll through the news page once more. She immerses herself in a recent arson, absorbing each detail until she is no longer in the room. Instead, she is transported to a pile of charred wooden beams and blackened bricks. Glass litters the ground, and rescue teams crunch through it around her, searching for anyone who could have been in the house. It was owned by an elderly woman, and she had custody of her six year old grand-daughter. No one had seen them alive, but no one had seen them dead either. She walks through the rubble, taking in the scene. The planks of wood are split with jagged edges, and disintegrating pieces of furniture reach up at her with burnt hands, wanting to drag her down in the ashes with them. Picking through, following the authorities around the crime scene, something suddenly grabs the top of her leg.

“ _Jesus_!” Shaw shouts out, pushing into a standing position, chair clattering back with the noise of a sonic boom. She has a hand to the back of her waistline, fingers around the handle of a gun under her shirt, and her body faces the left. She ignores every stunned and annoyed look from the small cluster of people, focused in on only one.

This face is a calm mask poorly fitted to the underlying amusement of her features. Shaw can read the utter enjoyment in her eyes; the word smug written on her smirk.

“ _Someone’s_  jumpy,” she says, looking Shaw over with sinister eyes. At seeing Shaw’s fingers curl into fists, the smirk only deepens.

“For God’s  _sake_ , Root,” Shaw says, voice as elevated as her blood pressure. The surprise of it all has left her, leaving only anger behind. She was never easily spooked, and it annoys her greatly that such a small thing caused such a huge reaction. “What the f-”

Shaw is wheeled forcefully by the shoulders, eyes met squarely with the bloodshot pair of a deranged wolf. Mouth foaming, teeth bared, and hot breath billowing out of ragged puffs from her nose, she growls,

“You  _have_ \- to  _be_ -  _quiet_!”

_______\ Person of Interest /________

After their second encounter with the less than amiable librarian, Root and Shaw logged off the computers, deciding to roam the aisles. They traveled in lazy zigzags, reading titles silently and glancing periodically towards the upstairs balcony. After a short while, Shaw stumbled across a vacant lounge area. She recognized the white dividing wall from the video feeds, and was pleasantly surprised to see the space far from the librarian’s prying eyes. She’d slipped past a few citizens searching for novels to tell Root of the discovery, and the two went back to wait out the rest of the agonizingly long day.

Shaw sits in the dark, leather chair, foot tapping against the ground with her elbows sitting on the armrests. She holds a magazine up before her face, skimming through it with little interest. The lamp light bounces off the dividing wall, causing a glare against the glossy pages, but Shaw barely notices. She isn’t reading- she’s merely thinking.

More so, plotting.  _Trying to strategize_. The magazine is to hide her eyes from Root, not wanting to look that way- _not wanting to see how she’s looking at me._ She had to admit it, as much as she didn’t want to, that Root was doing something to her. In public. If they were home, sure, she wouldn’t be so angered, but they aren’t.  _We’re in a library, for Christ’s sake_ , Shaw mutters to herself heatedly.  _The only way to make it worse would be if this was a church_. Root was turning her on the entire length of the computer station, purely for her own malevolent benefit. But Shaw couldn’t get herself back into a neutral mindset. She felt antsy, body vibrating with an unattainable energy, and she needs it to stop. However, with every glance at Root, all her brain can think is  _'Go, go, go.’_

So, the magazine had helped. Shaw had also ignored every comment Root threw out until she stopped entirely. Now, Root lounges across from her in a matching chair, sitting slouched back into the soft seat. Her arms are splayed out across the arm rests, and her feet are up and crossed on the center table. She has a bored look in her eyes, letting them peek over to Shaw every so often to see if she’s looking. She’s not.

Root sinks further into the chair, trying to take up maximum space, hopefully invading on Shaw’s personal bubble in the process. It seems guarded by iron gates.

“Watcha reading?” Root says at last, the silence becoming an unbearable weight on her chest. She see’s Shaw’s foot stop tapping, but she does not answer. Root gives an internal groan, wishing she wouldn’t ignore her yet again. The computer desk was different. She couldn’t help but stare adoringly at Shaw, watching her face as her eyes scanned the screen greedily, lips parting ever so slightly as they just barely mouthed the words. Root could see her angled in towards the computer, letting each word wash over her until she washed away. Root was fascinated, and- wondering what on earth held her girlfriend so tightly- leaned over to investigate. Thinking nothing of it, she’d placed her hand on Shaw’s leg. It was like detonating an atomic bomb.

But no, this was purposeful- not answering but hearing it all. Root coughs, licks her lips, then tries again.

“Is it interesting?”

“No.” The gusto comes back to Root in a wave at hearing the response, and she feels the animation revived within her.

“What’s it about?” She asks.

“No clue.”

Root’s eyes narrow as she purses her lips. Drawing her legs in, she pushes up to a stand. With slick grace, she snakes her way around the table, coming just behind Shaw, leg resting on the dividing wall. She folds her arms one over the other atop the chair, leaning her head in to see the words.

“It might help if there wasn’t such a glare on the page.”

Shaw responds with an unintelligible grunt, flipping the pages rather roughly. Root can see how tightly wound Shaw’s muscles are, each tendon rippling beneath her smooth skin with the slightest movement; her neck is so taut Root can see her jugular fighting to burst free.

She tuts, tongue clicking against her teeth, and slides from behind the chair, plopping down right on Shaw.

“You need to  _relax_ ,” she tells her, slipping her head under the magazine to rest it on Shaw’s shoulder. Shaw doesn’t even move, leaving every muscle as if they are etched from stone. Root scoots further up on her lap before turning, a leg on either side of Shaw’s as she sits back on the tops of Shaw’s legs. She brings her hands to Shaw’s shoulders, fingers dancing along Shaw’s exposed skin. “Starting  _here_ ,” she continues. “Before you burst a vein or something.”

This seems to be a trigger, for Shaw finally snaps back to action. Her entire body unwinds and she lets herself melt back into the chair, head at the top of the headrest, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes had yet to meet Root’s.

Shaw sighs. “Why are you so… so…”

“Irresistible?” Root offers, coy smile tainting her lips.

“I was going more for  _annoying_ ,” Shaw responds, a quirk of a smile on her own lips. Then, something clouds her eyes, storming over the small second of clear sky in them. “Would it  _kill_ you to act normal?” Shaw asks, voice not harsh, but still choppy with something else. “So we don’t stand out as we watch this guy?”

“Yes,” Root replies simply. Then, leaving one hand at Shaw’s neck, she brings the other to Shaw’s chin, guiding her face down to look at her. In that instant, it is over.

Shaw’s eyes connect to Root’s and every dam she’d been furiously constructing throughout the day burst, forceful rapids pulling her under Root’s spell. She’s drowning in Root’s gaze, flooded from head to toe in their vibrancy. She swallows hard, unable to take in an even breath, and her heart makes a mess of her chest.

Root can tell, her pulse racing heavily under Root’s fingers, and Root cocks an eyebrow Shaw’s way. Then, without so much as another thought, she leans in. With each centimeter, she can feel Shaw’s pulse hitting faster, faster, until their lips meet. It’s a spontaneous combustion, every part of Root lighting on fire. The flames only grow as Shaw leans into her, deepening the kiss with maximum force. Root can feel a moan forming in the back of her throat but forces it down as they separate, leaving Root breathless a few seconds. Shaw’s breath hits her face in uneven bursts and- as she opens her eyes- she relishes the sight of seeing Shaw’s still held shut.

Her hand leaves Shaw’s face, coming even to her right before both begin a slow plight down Shaw’s arms. “ _That’s_  why you’ve been avoiding me, huh?” Root asks, coy voice barely over a whisper, eyes glowing. “Why didn’t you just  _say_ so?” Her hands reach Shaw’s elbows. “I could have fixed that  _long_ ago.” Shaw’s eyes appear at that, a guffaw in them.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Shaw responds, the huskiness in her voice causing Root’s heart to slam against her rib cage. Her hands tremble slightly with adrenaline as they slip from Shaw’s forearms to her stomach. “We can’t exactly leave.” A devilish smirk appears on Root’s face, fingers finding Shaw’s jean zipper.

“I never said we had to.” Shaw’s eyes widen visibly at the remark, and Root can’t help the flutter of wings in her chest.

“Are you  _sure_ about this?” Shaw asks, although her hands are already encasing the tops of Root’s arms, easing her closer.

“We have time to kill,” Root points out to her, right hand grazing over Shaw’s hipbone. Shaw’s fingers tighten around Root’s arms involuntarily, and Root feels her heart in her throat, stomach back-flipping and blood jetting through her veins. “Just keep  _one_ thing in mind,” she says, bringing her face close to Shaw’s. Shaw pulls her in nearer.

“And what’s that?” She asks, voice a murmur as her lips graze Root’s neck with each syllable; it sends a thrill down her spine. Her mouth is close to Shaw’s ear now, but she looks straight ahead at the dividing wall, trying to keep her voice cool and collected.

In a hushed tone that could arguably have the most microscopic of quakes in it, she answers, “You have to be quiet.”


End file.
